Steam
by Starslug
Summary: Mechanikles is forced into a dubious deal with Saleen: in return for saving him from his exploding machine, he must work for her. Contains cephalopods and big clockwork beetles.
1. Prologue: The Chambered Nautilus

_I could give a perfectly good, somewhat sensible reason for writing this: namely, that I'm re-addressing an imbalance. Saleen got far too few episodes to herself, and Mechanikles, whilst getting his share of screen-time, doesn't really have enough fanfic. But quite frankly, none of these reasons really compares to the fact that I'm a nerdy bio-geek who still remembers Saturday morning cartoon, loves mermaids as much as she loves mad scientists, and has way to much affection for arthropods and molluscs. _

_The whole sorry idea was sparked off by wondering just how Mechanikles escaped from his exploding machine at the end of "Plunder the sea". As such, the prologue begins at the end of that episode. (For the continuity-curious, before Saleen ever meets Aladdin.)_

_Enjoy. Or the beetles come in the night._

Prologue: 

It had taken him months of meticulous planning just to draw up the designs for his beautiful creation: the perfect logarithmic spiral of the buoyancy chambers, the complex system of levers that controlled the sinuous tentacles, not to mention the channels of for steam, and the conduits for oil, linked into the great pulsing boiler at the heart of the machine. It had taken longer still for him to breathe life into those flat sketches, one man painstakingly piecing together an idea, making his insubstantial vision in hard, clean bronze. The results, of course, had been worth it. They always were. His beautiful machines, obedient to his every command, were the manifestation of all his ambitions, the power of his mind made into physical might.

And now, with no concern for the backbreaking effort that had gone into its creation, the asinine, scruffy-haired street-rat was standing just inches from the lever that would re-route the steam channels, sending the whole thing to the ocean floor in pieces.

"S-stay away from that lever!"

Mechanikles heard his voice come out as a desperate squeak. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to see yet another invention ruined. Even that little wretch wouldn't be stupid enough to destroy something whilst still inside it.

"Why?"

"That's the lever that will destroy my precious invention!"

There was a moment's silence. Then a smile twisted its way across the boy's face, one that was all too easy to read. One that brought about a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach.

Mechanikles gave a sigh, and pulled a scroll from it's hiding place within his tunic. His quill scratched irritably across the parchment.

"Never tell enemy which lever will destroy invention."

And then a grimy hand was tightening around a smooth lever. A shudder ran through the floor of the great machine. There was a blast of heat from the great boiler, a savage hiss of steam and a terrible noise, of splintering gears and twisting metal, a sound that seemed to fill both the sea and the sky. The heat became searing, and for a moment, the world was filled with the incandescent brightness and thunderous noise of the dying engine.

Then cold, and darkness, and silence.

* * *

There was cold water pressing in on every inch of his skin. That was the first thing Mechanikles noticed, the thing that snapped him back into consciousness. The next thing that he noticed, as he flailed in the water, was that something was wrapped tightly around him, something thick, slimy, and resistant to his frantic struggles. The more he tried to prise the thing off, the tighter it's grip became. He gave a silent scream, thrashing against the obstruction, a cloud of silvery bubbles rising from his mouth. Then, although it was admitting defeat, even though his logical mind might have rebelled at the thought, the urges of his body became too much, and he gulped a deep breath of saltwater.

His struggles stopped. He floated there for a moment, blinking the water out of his eyes, feeling the taste of salt on his tongue. He breathed out. And, in the interests of both science and his own survival, he breathed in again. He could feel, with horrible clarity, the water flowing down his throat, and into the soft, delicate membranes of his lungs. He could also feel the slimy grip around him tighten, and now that he looked down what it was that was trapping him, he felt revulsion rise in his throat.

The thing holding him was a tentacle. A tentacle belonging to an octopus larger than he was.

He stared at the octopus. The octopus stared back with huge, inhuman eyes. And, slowly, another tentacle was advancing, it's thin tip snaking through the water, reaching towards his face. There was only one thing for a genius of his standing to do when faced with such a sight:

"AAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

He shrieked, a few last bubbles escaping, and flapped ineffectually at the slimy whip of flesh.

"Armond!"

Both octopus and inventor froze. Two pairs of eyes, one pair inhuman, one pair mismatched, turned to the source of the voice.

She floated in mid-water, her hair swishing around her head in a fat braid, an amused smiled on her face. It was a face that some might well have called beautiful, something that was of far less concern to Mechanikles to the fact that her body, from the waist down, tapered into a sleek, doubtlessly slimy tail.

"Armond, are you frightening our little guest?"

The…creature in front of him advanced with a swish of her fin, pointing an admonishing finger at the invertebrate. With a look in it's eyes that was almost reluctant, the octopus loosened its grip, and crawled a few steps back. Satisfied, and with a frivolous flick of her hair, she twisted in the water to face the floating Greek.

"Awake, I see." The amusement on her face was clear, and verging on sadistic. "None the worse for your little adventure."

"Indeed." Mechanikles shuddered. His voice, against all logic, came out as clear as it did in air, and he decided to take advantage of this fact.

"Madam, do you know who you I am? I am Mechanikles, greatest of the great Greek geniuses! I don't know what you are, or what you are doing down here, but my schedule is currently immensely tight." He reached into his tunic, withdrew his scroll, and unrolled it. He managed to unroll it into around fifty soggy little pieces.

The fish-woman wafted a lump of wet paper out of the way.

"Very tight, I see." She coiled in the water, circling the scrawny inventor as he stared, horrified, at the remains of his to-do-list. "Well Mechanikles, greatest of the great, I am Saleen, daughter of the water, siren of the seven seas, and this is Armond, my little assistant. He's great with hair. Frankly, yours could do with a little work."

Mechanikles batted a tentacle away, as it reached for one of his twin braids.

"A siren, are you?" He squinted through his eyepiece. "Frankly, I was expecting someone with more feathers. Now, I can see it must be frightfully tedious down in this miserable little grotto, but I'll thank you to finish messing my hair, and let me be on my way." He gazed up through the blue, where lances of sunlight filtered through the water column, and nameless fishes weaved through the upper deep. It was dishearteningly far above.

A giggle from the so-called siren.

"Oh no. No, you're not leaving anytime soon. Not without telling me where you get such wonderful toys."

Even down in this dark undersea grottoe, even surrounded by countless and innumerable, undoubtedly filthy polypi, even floating between a mollusc capable of swallowing him whole, and a mer-woman who somehow unnerved him more, Mechanikles still bristled.

"Toys!? You dare to call my beautiful machines_ toys!?_" Bubbles hissed from between his teeth. A hand reached into the secret recesses of his robe, and withdrew, with a flourish, a small and intricate beetle. "Do you know the love that goes into my creations? How long I spend at the drawing board? How many test I perform, how many refinements – Give it back, you filthy cephalopod!"

A tentacle took the beetle from his hand, held it to Armond's huge eyes, and gave it a shake. The sharp little limbs moved limply in the current, but otherwise, nothing happened. With something that might have been called a shrug, the octopus passed the clockwork creature into Saleen's hands.

A frown crossed her pretty face.

"It doesn't work."

"Of course it doesn't work! I haven't wound it up!"

The beetle was snatched back to it's rightful owner, and given a few twists of an intricately decorated key. With a slightly crazed grin, he held it aloft.

"Behold!"

The beetle stirred into life: it's wings beat at the water, and its metallic body rose. Then the rhythm slowed, the movements became jerky, and it sank like a stone, burying itself headfirst in the sand.

"Well of course, it wasn't designed for underwater use."

Saleen regarded the drowned beetle.

"Could it be?"

"Could it be? Could I, Mechanikles, design a machine for underwater use? Didn't you see my _Nautilus,_ you low-rate water-nymph? I can create devices equally at home on land, sea or sky!"

A slow grin spread itself over Saleen's face. It was not exactly shark-like, as sharks on the whole didn't quite possess the degree of malevolent glee that was slowly etching itself onto her face. It was the grin, not of a ravenous, primal killing-machine, but of something that knew exactly what it was doing, and was enjoying every minute. It was more like the grin of a sadistic dolphin.

"You can? Excellent! Then we have a deal: in exchange for me saving your life, you belong to me."

Mechanikles froze. His eyes narrowed.

"Saving my life? Belong to you!? What deal?"

Saleen's face became petulant, her eyes glinting and inhuman. The spiny fins around her waist bristled.

"The deal you made when you set foot in my oceans and tried to meddle with them."

"Alright! What then? What if I accept? I can't build down here, down in this wet, filthy little cave. I need my workshop, my blueprints, my…"

A cold finger on his lips cut him off, and made him gag.

"I don't want you down here, making the place look untidy. No. I want your mind. I want your designs. I want them when I want, where I want. Go back to your workshop, and your toys. I'll call you when I want you." Then, to the octopus, she added: "Armond!"

Armond flowed forward in response, a tide of wet pink flesh. An icy tentacle snaked through the water and wrapped itself around Mechanikles' left wrist, pulling his arm out and exposing the palm. As he tried to struggle, countless other tentacles entwined the rest of his body, holding him in a freezing grasp, his skin crawling at the touch of the creature's skin.

"What are you-" A tentacle also found his mouth, cutting his protests short.

Saleen advanced, smirking and toying with her necklace, a starfish worn around her neck on a string. Now that she was close, he could see that the little creature was undoubtedly still alive: as she pulled it away from the string, its little tube-feet lost their grip one by one.

"Don't worry." She said, with equal parts false sympathy, equal parts enjoyment. "I'm just sealing the deal. It might sting a little."

And with those words, she pressed the starfish down into the palm of his hand. For a moment, the feeling of its little feet sucking onto his skin was all Mechanikles could feel. Then the creature pulsed. A cold pinkish light lit it up from within, and at the same time, a sharp jolt of pain ran down his arm. He gave a muffled howl.

"There." Saleen withdrew the starfish, replacing it around her neck. Armond released his grip, letting Mechanikles writhe. He stared down at his hand. There, glinting on his palm, was a small, shiny, star-shaped burn. He wriggled his fingers experimentally, and winced as the wound twinged again.

"It'll never get better if you play with it, you know." Her grin flashed white as she whirled around him. "That's a special mark, you know. You're lucky. I don't give my mark to just anyone. That mark will tell me exactly where you are. That mark will let me find you again. With that mark, I control you."

The pain in Mechanikles hand was abating, but the slowly building embarrassment and rage was not. He glared at her, one eye creased in fury, the other one magnified several times it's normal size behind its lens.

"Control me? Control I, Mechanikles?! Well madam, you might have set your filthy enchinoderm on me, but mark my words, no-one controls Mechanikles! One day you will-"

Saleen nodded. And smiled her twisted smile.

"Tell me, Mechanikles, greatest of the great. You may be a genius, and you might be able to make pretty toys, but can you swim?"

Her question caught him mid-rant.

"Well of course. Well, a little. Not since I was younger, admittedly, but still, yes." He frowned. "I don't make a habit of sharing water with icky fish-things. He shuddered violently. "They don't get out to relieve themselves…"

Another nod.

"Then swim, Mechanikles. I'm getting bored. Swim for your miserable life!"

Very suddenly, the inventor became aware of the water around. Very suddenly, it seemed to grow much colder, and its pressure weighing down on him much greater. The taste of salt in his mouth became revoltingly strong, all things of far less concern to him that the fact that he had just inhaled cold, wet, and distinctly un-breathable water.

Saleen was laughing. Her laughter did not abate for some time, not until the struggling inventor had flapped, clawed, and scraped his way to the surface. She looked up at the scrawny silhouette, floundering in the shimmering waters above, and turned to Armond.

"Of course he'll make it back to land. I didn't go to all the trouble of saving him just to drown him again. Silly Armond. It's the oldest trick in the book. He'll make it, don't you worry. Not by much, but he'll make it."

She turned back, and pulled the broken beetle from the sand.

"Why? I'm sure he'll come in handy. It gets so tiring smashing ships all by ourselves." She fiddled with one of the intricate wings of the beetle. "Besides, he does delicate things too. Perhaps something pretty to put your hair-care products in?"

Something floated down from above, see-sawing through the water as it fell. Saleen and Armond watched it, as it fell into the sand, sending up a cloud of debris.

Saleen sighed. Gingerly, she picked up the object, a wet and battered sandal.

"Of course, when we do use him, we might need to find a way to improve that fashion sense…"

* * *

_**Please excuse the biology and Greek-mythology gags. Also, please excuse Saleen borrowing the old "Ursula manoeuvre". She already has so many Little Mermaid references, one more can't hurt. Can it?**_


	2. Chapter 1: Sunset

_Another chapter that begins where an episode ends, I'm afraid. This one is set at the end of "Shark Treatment", Saleen's last episode. (Not saying much: she only got two.) Between this and "Plunder the sea", Mechanikles also made his last official appearance._

_Now that the nerdy continuity is out of the way, please enjoy. This one's pure Saleen and Armond, and I hope I haven't mangled them too badly._

_

* * *

  
_

The sun was slowly sinking down through a sky of fire, a great gold disk slowly melting into a rippling, molten ocean. Its progress streaked the clouds in unearthly colours, and sent a blazing ribbon across the waves. It was a sunset made for walks on the beach, toes dipped into the surf, and kisses as the waves threw soft white spray.

All of these things would have been far less painful for Saleen to contemplate if it hadn't been for the fact that the object of her desires was sailing off into that very same sunset, leaving her squatting in the surf, trapped like a goldfish in a bowl.

Of course, that's what it was: a giant goldfish bowl, forged from elemental proof glass. It was the perfect blend of magically potent and ridiculous, the infuriating hallmark of the genie that must have made it. Only its walls separated her from the ocean, and the little black shadow of the ship as it began to disappear over the horizon, into that glorious golden haze.

She dropped her head, gazing blankly at the sand. Trapped under this bowl, humiliated not only by the genie, but by the whole troupe of little pets that seemed to follow her prize about. Trapped and humiliated, to add to the ultimate insult of being rejected. For a moment, her teeth flashed in a furious grimace. Aladdin! Who was he to reject her? He was pretty, but he was only a street-rat. Who was he to reject her, a beautiful, powerful elemental?

Of course, he at least wasn't trapped under a fishbowl.

With a deep sight, Saleen stared out into the sunset once more. Night would be coming soon, and she would be left alone in the darkness. A trace of saltwater, only the tiniest fragment of the saltwater that swirled around her, brimmed up in her eyes.

"Land-dwelling wretches."

She turned her gaze away, determined not to look at the ocean that she was separated from. She looked up at the land instead, a sight equally painful. It was the world that Aladdin belonged to, a world he had refused to sacrifice for her. She rested her head in her hands, gazing up at the darkening sands, the legs that she had temporarily adopted curled awkwardly beneath her.

A swish of the ocean caught her ear. A glint of purple reflected in the wretched glass caught her eye. She turned back to the ocean to find, glinting golden in the sunset, her saviour.

"Armond! My hero!"

He was silhouetted for a moment, as though posing, his mighty tentacles bulging and glistening. Then in one fluid movement, the bowl was gone, hurled away, and she was free to run forwards and bury herself in the soft flesh of her champion.

"How I've missed my little squiddums!" She rubbed her face against his, his huge eyes creasing in pleasure, both of them lost for a moment in the joy of reunion. Then the memory of betrayal became all too fresh, and Saleen pulled away, staring past Armond into the horizon. Far, far away, a single black speck on the face of the sun, the little ship shrank to nothing, and vanished.

"We'll get 'em next time, Armond!"

********

Down in the depths again, the coolness of the water against Saleen's skin was comforting, as was being able to merge the halves of her tail back into one again. She leant back in the coiled clutches of Armond, his powerful tentacles now as delicate as feathers, gently repairing the damage that the days stresses had done to her hair.

"We could have done it, Armond." She sighed, as he gently combed her hair from the roots. "We could have had Aladdin, if it hadn't been for that stupid genie."

Armond nodded sagely. In some ways, he was a reverse hairdresser: whilst others of his talents may have delighted in amusing clients with chatter and patter, he acted as a listener, a soft molluscan sponge for troubles. There were few problems that Armond felt unable to tackle with sympathy and a dye job.

"If it hadn't been for you being so brave, I could still be under that horrible bowl! Why do they always have to interfere?"

Saleen frowned, and shifted on Armond.

"It's the company he keeps, I know it! You saw how Aladdin was when it was just me and him. If his friends didn't always stick their feet…paws…claws…tassels…vapour…whatever into the situation, he'd be ours! Well…mine, anyway. They drag him down. Especially that princess. What does she do to him? How does she keep him?"

Armond gave one of his multiple-armed shrugs.

"Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. It's a perfectly good saying. Hasn't she ever heard of it? Little hussy…and I know my huss."

Saleen shifted. Armond, who was busy re-plaiting her voluminous braid, stretched to accommodate her.

"Well. Next time. Next time, it'll be different. Take notes, Armond! Next time, we have to get the genie out of the way somehow. And that magic carpet. With them gone, none of the others can stand up to my power! I'll have Aladdin eating out of my hand! And this time, I won't let anyone steal my magical starfish."

Saleen froze. Realisation dawned on her face.

"That's it!"

She stood up abruptly, causing Armond to lose his grip. Her hair came free, waving and flickering around her head like a cloud of fire. She paid it no heed. Instead, she weaved through the waters of her grotto, past her dressing table, with its stacked and obscure products, and into another opening. She slid through, Armond trailing after her.

Inside this portion of the extensive grotto was a collection of sunken items. Crowded on the natural recesses of the rock were myriads of treasures, in both senses. Pieces of jewellery, the gold and silver untarnished by the enchanted water, winked from every rocky shelf. Everything that man might conceivably take to sea was here, from fine china to delicate cutlery sets, to beautiful dresses that floated ghost-like, preserved by the magic of the place.

Saleen passed all these treasures by, rummaging through the shelves for some other goal.

"Where did we put it, Armond? The other starfish? The one we made before?"

Armond looked up from what he was examining, the skull of some unnamed unfortunate, which was currently being used to model a tiara, and shrugged.

"Oh! You're no help at all, you know that?" She swept the contents of the shelf to the floor with a tut. "Well, we're not leaving until we find it." She sighed, muttering under her breath. "Stupid enchinoderms. You tell them to stay put, and they just wander off on you."

Her search of a pile of necklaces was interrupted by a tentacle tapping her on the shoulder, and Armond pointing her to a pile of objects distinctly out of place amongst her collection of luxuries. The pile consisted of the two wooden handles of a scroll, the paper melted away long ago, a single sandal, and a motionless metal beetle. Lying in the centre of this pile was a small, pink starfish.

"Good job, Armond."

Saleen's fingers closed around the starfish. She looked up, up at the surface of her watery world. Above her enchanted grotto winked innumerable openings, the light streaming down. Some were larger than others, and all showed a different scene: moonlight and stars, or blazing sun. Some looked out onto human faces, others onto empty rooms. Others still blinked into existence, as others slowly disappeared. Here in this place, she was truly underwater, under all the water in the world, looking up from every pool or puddle, minute or mighty.

She grinned once more. Her loose hair whipped around her as she gazed up, up through the holes, into the light.

"Come, Armond. We're going to be part of their world."


	3. Chapter 2: Bigger Fish

Chapter 2: Bigger fish

_Finally, a totally original beginning to a chapter: no re-capping of established scenes from hereon in! _

_I'd just like to take a moment to thank my reviewers for such lovely reviews. Good characterisation is the highest praise you could give me, particularly from two authors who seem pretty spot-on in that department themselves. I'd be absolutely delighted to have my story added to your C2 community, if you're willing to take it. _

_I just hope I can do your lovely reviews justice in further chapters…_

In the darkness, the machines slumbered. Lifeless metal, sterile and cold, their limbs motionless, their wings flightless, and their clockwork hearts still, they slept, waiting for the touch of warm flesh, and the twist of a human hand to wake them.

And in the darkness, the greater machines loomed. Great formless things of cogs and springs, that lurked behind the scenes. Behind the façade of the huge, empty house, half-hidden behind drapes, the vast batteries of inscrutable mechanisms also slept.

In the darkness, and the stillness, the only sound was the soft, wheezing hiss of breath.

Mechanikles slept, sprawled inelegantly on his bed, one foot protruding from under the blanket. He slept a comfortable and dreamless sleep, one brought on by working on his projects for too many sleepless nights. A sleep that was destined to be much shorter than he had hoped for.

What woke him this time, with a gasp, was a splitting bolt of pain, running from the palm of his hand and up his arm. He jolted, almost falling out of bed, barely managing to keep his balance and dignity.

"Great Zeus, what was that!?"

He squinted blearily down at his hand. For a moment, he was sure he could see, glowing in the blackness, the blurry imprint of a star. Muttering under his breath, he groped for his beside table, finally managing to locate his eyepiece.

Scrutinising his hand again, he saw something that made his heart skip, and nausea rise in his throat: marked into his flawless flesh was a shiny, star-shaped sore.

"It's finally happened!" He stumbled out of bed, the covers getting tangled for a moment around his awkward, panicked shape. His stumbling continued until he collided with the wall.

"Scooter! The lights!"

From the surrounding darkness, there was another sound: a heavy, regular clanking, and the swishing of wings. The clanking of this one machine was slowly joined by a chorus of many, making a symphony of groans, whines, and clangs. In the gloom, the greater machines began to spin.

Very slowly, with each turn of the huge cogs, the darkness was peeled back, a dull glow filling the room, becoming brighter with every passing second, flickering as it grew. It illuminated the inventor, shielding his eyes from the brightness. It illuminated the white, marble vastness of the house. And it illuminated, the light playing warmly off its bronze body, a beetle larger than a man, hovering at roughly head-height, its bat-like wings beating the air with regular, noisy strokes.

Mechanikles turned to the beetle, and patted its vicious beak.

"Well done, Scooter." He turned away from the creature, and squinted around the room. "Did you see anything? Hear anything? I don't keep you wound up all night for nothing, you know."

The only reply from Scooter was a shake of its head. It was a difficult manoeuvre, involving its entire body twisting in the air, as Mechanikles had never seen a reason for articulating its neck.

"You sure? Nothing?" He paused for a moment to listen. There was no sound, at least not one louder than Scooter's comfortingly regular clanks. He glanced down at his hand again. The mark was still there, looking distinctly unsanitary.

"Go check the storage rooms. We can't be too careful. I'll check the workshop." A frown came across his face. "Nearly drown me, will she? Well, we'll see how she fares on dry land!"

It was just as he said those words that his bare foot landed in a large puddle that was busy soaking into the tiles of his workshop. He flinched, and hurriedly withdrew his foot, staring down at the water glinting on his immaculate floor. He wrinkled his nose.

"Dirty water? This place is going to stink for days…" He glanced around for a clean cloth, a search that was interrupted by the clanking of Scooter's return.

"Well? Did you find anything?" He demanded.

The only reply was another awkward shake of the head. Mechanikles sighed.

"A false alarm? It can't be a false alarm." He glanced down at his hand once more. "If felt it, Scooter. It's never done this before. And how else would you explain this?"

He pointed down at the puddle with an expression of revulsion. Scooter also examined it, with cold red eyes. The beetle seemed to think for a moment, its gears making a slightly louder whirr, then turned to gaze mutely upwards, its mechanical eyes scrutinising the ceiling.

"A leak? You think? But we just fixed the roof!"

A droplet of water, as if to prove a point, came falling from the ceiling and splashed into the slowly growing pool.

Another sigh. A quill and a scroll were once again removed from their hiding place, the inventor muttering as he scribbled. "Fix roof again." He glared down at the damp tiles. "Sanitise floor."

He rolled the scroll away, meeting Scooter's gaze again.

"Are you sure you didn't find anything? You didn't see or hear a thing?" He sighed as the beetle shook its head. "Perhaps I'm being paranoid?"

This time, Scooter nodded its head.

"Don't you give me that! You might not have been there, but I remember it! I remember having to swim to shore! I remember having to walk back for miles, with only one sandal and half the ocean stuck to me! I don't make things up, Scooter! I don't hallucinate!" His eyes glittered dangerously, and his mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grimace. "I, Mechanikles, am not insane! This might be a false alarm, but I know what I saw!"

He gave a yawn, blinking sleepily.

"Alright. Turn out the lights, and get this mess cleaned up. We'll fix everything tomorrow." He pointed an accusing finger at the beetle. "I want you on full alert tonight, nonetheless. If anything happens, anything at all, the tiniest bit of chaos in all my precious order, wake me. Is that clear?"

A nod.

"Good." Mechanikles gave a smile somewhat softer than his previous one. One of his long fingers tickled underneath Scooter's savage jaws. "You know daddy can't stay cross at you for long, don't you Scooty-poos?"

The beetle hovered impassively until it was released from its master's grip, before flapping off towards the great, churning banks of machinery. Slowly, the clanking stopped, and darkness seeped back into the house. Mechanikles yawned again, as he passed through the growing gloom, back to his sleeping space. The room was in total darkness by the time he crossed the threshold, barely visible as the looming black outlines of walls. He weaved his way across it, until his knees collided with the cold bronze frame of his bed. He yawned again, and slumped down on the bed, not even bothering to remove his eyepiece.

And, to his horror, found himself lying on something bony, slimy, and ice-cold.

"AAAAAHHHH!!!"

"I've heard many things from men in bed before, but that's certainly a new one on me."

This time, Mechanikles really did fall out of bed, sprawling heavily on the floor, staring up at the dark figure above him. Teeth flashed in the gloom as she smirked.

"Scooter!"

The light began to grow again, illuminating Saleen lying full across his bed, her tail flopping languidly.

"I must say, I'm impressed." She commented, glancing up at the ceiling. "These lights are very flattering to the complexion."

"How did you get in here!?"

"What, me?" She glanced down at her tail, and laughed. "I walked."

Her gaze snapped up at the sound of Scooter's noisy progress, watching its flight into the room.

"Ah, Scooty-poos." A glance at the inventor. A wicked smirk. "I see this one works, then?"

Mechanikles was on his feet now, and it was his turn to loom over her.

"Scooter here is the fruition of months, years of careful planning and back-breaking labour! He's seen a thousand re-modellings, countless tune-ups, and a myriad of long nights repairing! His motor is the most powerful yet lightweight of all of my beetles, and meticulous design has infused his cogs with a powerful intellect!" A frown crossed his face. "Well, as much intellect as I can cram into something light enough to fly, anyway… His jaws can cut through bone and tissue like paper! And he can wash dishes without mercy!"

To illustrate the point, Scooter fixed Saleen with a beady red eye, its serrated beak opening just a fraction.

"Well, you know what they say: giant clockwork beetles may be quite continental, but cephalopods are a girls best friend." She flicked her tail, a few beads of saltwater speckling the insect. "But I digress. I'm not here to admire your creations. No, I'm here for affairs of the heart."

A brief look of contempt crossed the inventor's face.

"Indeed? Then what can I do for you there, then? A comb? A mirror? A necklace? Something nice and trivial?"

"Maybe later. No, at the moment, I've got bigger fish to fry. And this particular magnificent specimen isn't going to come back to the ocean without a fight."

Realisation glinted in Mechanikles' eyes. He frowned.

"You ask me to waste my effort and genius on dragging some unwilling soul into your clutches?"

"Not unwilling. Not in the end. I'm sure once he's in my clutches, away from the influence of his little friends, he'll be quite the loyal little fishy." Her smile turned hard. "And that's where you come in. You see, getting him away from their bad influence has proved easier said than done."

"Ah. Now I understand. You wish me to waste my effort and genius on disposing of his friends, so you can drag some unwilling soul into your clutches." He turned his back on her, with a shake of the head. "Well, it may be trivial, but it should be easy enough."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mechanikles caught a glimpse of Saleen moving. In one fluid motion, she swung her tail over the side of the bed, stood up, and began to walk towards the inventor. Mechanikles was, for a moment, speechless. What had begun with her lying helpless, a fish from the waist down, had ended with her stood beside him, smiling that smile. His eyes cast a furtive glance down. Yes, somewhere along the line, she had gained a pair of legs, albeit ones clad in the same stripy, slimy skin, and bristling with fins. He quickly withdrew his gaze, composed himself, and resolved not to give her the satisfaction of shock.

"So, then. I send my creations in, dispatch his friends, and have him delivered to you by…" He consulted his scroll. "…Ooh, about Tuesday? Will that satisfy you?"

A sharp-nailed finger was waved in his face.

"Nuh-uh. It's not that easy to land this catch. I've tried. His friends are not the ordinary sort."

"My machines are designed to deal with all eventualities. Well, most of them…"

"Perhaps, Mechanikles. But tell me, have your creations ever faced a genie?"

"A genie, you say? Pah! My inventions are equipped with state of the art anti-genie technology! Capturing a genie is child's play! You, see, all you have to do is…" Mechanikles' explanation petered out as his brain caught up with his mouth. "A genie!?"

"A particularly annoying one at that."

"You want me to help you capture someone…someone who is friends with a genie?"

"Experience with magic carpets would be a help, too."

Saleen paused. There was a look in the inventor's eyes that made her take a fraction of a step back. His mouth was fixed in a grimace that showed every overly-large tooth.

"**Aladdin!"**


	4. Chapter 3: The Octopus and the Arthropod

Chapter 3: The octopus and the arthropod

_I don't know if this is just me being angsty, but Mechanikles has always seemed to have a slightly pitiful edge to him, being completely cut off from the rest of the world, both by location and by his superiority complex. Sure, a lot of Aladdin villains are loners, but they tend to have living sidekicks. (Even Lord "doesn't-get-invited-to-parties" Mozenrath has a pet that can talk, and an army of zombies for his entertainment.) His plans also seem darker than the standard. At least two (steam-cleaning the earth, destroying the rainforest) would potentially wipe out every living thing on the planet, himself included. (As he doesn't really show any other suicidal urges, it seems that perhaps he's gone so far into his delusions that he doesn't really consider himself human anymore…) Watching the series, he also seems to get progressively nuttier as time goes on. I know I'm reading far, far too much into someone who was just meant to be amusingly crazy, but for me, Mechanikles is a darker villain than the standard big-guns like Mozenrath or Jafar. They might have more power, and they might pose more threat, but their motives are fairly understandable (power and self-interest) , and they seem pretty well-adjusted, all considering. The thought of Mechanikles wandering alone around his workshop, talking to his beetles and losing his last few handfuls of sanity creeps me out way more than any amount of sorcery and scary hands._

_(I do have a soft spot for sorcery and scary hands, but that's fodder for another story…)_

_Thank you again for the lovely, lovely reviews. It's true, so far Saleen has very much had the upper hand: this chapter is particularly cruel on that front. I'm trying to go for a dynamic in which Saleen has most of the physical power, but Mechanikles has the upper hand in intelligence. She's not going to be bullying him for too long._

Somewhere in the middle of a conversation that meant very little to it, Scooter had decided that the strange creature that had appeared in its master's bedroom was no particular threat to either itself or its creator, and hovered off to clean up the puddle in the workshop. It could hear the two of them talking as it clanked heavily over to the table on which the clean cloths were stacked, extended its arm from the hatch on its back, and took one. It kept one complex clockwork ear trained on their speech as it hovered back over the puddle, staring into its dirty depths.

Scooter paused for a moment. Something was wrong with the puddle. Namely, whilst the beetle knew it should only be a few fractions of a centimetre deep, the water quite clearly extended much, much deeper, the surface being only a fraction of the dark, indistinct depths below. Scooter leant it closer, the woefully inadequate cloth at the ready, strange red eyes squinting into the darkness. It could make out vague shapes below. Rocks? Weed? And something dark, something long and sinuous, something rising to the surface. The beetle brought its head closer to the surface, trying to make out the identity of the shape.

Which was when the sinuous object broke the surface, and the beetle found itself seized around the neck by a long, slimy, purple tentacle.

*******

"Aladdin!"

"You know him?"

"Know him!? The street-rat scum has been destroying my life's work for years!" The inventor turned away from Saleen, and began to pace to the other side of the room. "Every time I build something, _anything_, he has to come along and ruin it! All that work, gone in five measly minutes!" He paused for a moment. "Well, sometimes it takes a little longer. But he still destroys them! Usually with me inside!"

Saleen sat back down on Mechanikles' bed, and crossed her scaly legs.

"He is quite the hero." Saleen sighed.

"Yes, quite! Always coming along and meddling! Never bothering to make anything himself, but quite content to crush other's efforts! I'll never have a moment's peace whilst he's still alive!" He had paced back to Saleen now, close enough to spray her with spittle. "Yes, he's quite the hero, perfectly willing to throw me off cliffs, bring my headquarters down on my head, mangle Scooter, murder my Junior, and force me into your filthy clutches!"

Saleen's fins bristled.

"Whatever history you might have with Aladdin is irrelevant! I own you, Mechanikles, and you'll do what I tell you! You're mine, and soon, Aladdin will be too!"

"The destruction of the street rat is an honour I've long since reserved for myself, you wretched sea-witch! I'm not about to deliver him to you, to honour a deal I had no part in!"

Saleen's hand flew to the starfish around her neck, her eyes creasing with fury. Her fingers closed around it, nails digging into the creature's skin. In response, the burn etched into Mechanikles' hand throbbed with pink light again. A moment later, pain shot up his arm, strong enough to make him shriek and drop to his knees.

The inventor remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the pain to abate, and for his rage to cool enough for him to speak without earning another shock. Slowly, he got to his feet, careful not to put pressure on his left hand, and gave Saleen the most gracious smile he could, under the circumstances.

"Admittedly, just the chance to destroy the street-rat's friends has its appeal." His voice came out with just the faintest twang of resentment. "Shall we get down to business?"

Saleen's mouth opened, but Mechanikles never heard her reply. It was cut off by the most appalling sound coming from the workshop, a mixture of clanking metal and squelching flesh.

"Scooter?"

"Armond!"

Saleen and Mechanikles both pushed through the workshop door at the same time, to find the source of the sound. Scooter was almost totally enveloped in Armond's clutches, only a few metallic limbs protruding from the mass of sticky flesh. His jaws were also free, however, and were tightly locked onto one of the octopus' tentacles. Both were struggling on the floor, surrounded by puddles of ink, oil and dirty water.

"Scooter! What are you doing to my nice clean floor!?"

"Armond! Stop that this instant!"

The pair froze, their unnatural eyes glancing up almost guiltily. Very slowly, Armond retracted his tentacles. With equal reluctance, Scooter opened its jaws, shaking its head to rid its mouth of slime. Almost instantly, Mechanikles was at its side, scrubbing ineffectually at the ink staining its metallic skin.

"Scooter, what are you doing, getting this filthy!? You know how ink stains!" He looked down at the dents on the beetle's body. "And you're leaking!"

Saleen watched with equal parts bemusement and equal parts amusement at the inventor bent over his beetle, berating it with every stroke of the brush, oblivious to the elemental watching him, lost in the world of cleanliness. With a resentful glance back at Scooter, Armond slithered to her side, moving his injured tentacle gingerly.

"Silly Armond. Silly violent Armond." She petted his slimy head, and turned her attention to Mechanikles. "Tell me, are you going to polish your toys all night, or you going to remember why I'm here?"

Mechanikles didn't look up from his frantic cleaning.

"Don't you see? Don't you understand?" His voice had a sharp edge of hysteria to it. "If you don't get rid of the dirt quickly, the filth gets…ingrained." He shuddered. "Everything covered in octopus germs…"

Armond glowered at the inventor, who was still totally absorbed. Saleen ignored her companion, instead stepping forwards, her lips twisting into that sadistic smile. She took aim for a moment, extended both her hands, and aimed a jet of water that hit both Mechanikles and Scooter with enough force to slide them across the floor until they were both stopped by the closest wall. As Mechanikles tried to simultaneously disentangle himself from Scooter and get the saltwater out of his eyes, the figure of Saleen loomed above him.

"There. All clean."


	5. Chapter 4: Sunrise

Chapter 4: Sunrise

_How smart is Scooter? It's not an easy question: unlike Xerxes, he never speaks, and unlike Armond, he lacks very expressive body language. I was very tempted to think of Scooter as just a senseless, blind automaton: after all, making a good brain and eyes out of clockwork is a pretty impossible feat. (He can quite clearly hear, as he obeys Mechanikles' orders.) However, one scene in "Getting the bugs out" confirms for me that Scooter can not only see, but also think halfway logically. When beaten up by Aladdin and co., he flies back to his master and draws a picture of them in his own oil: not only must he be able to see his attackers, he must also be able to realise the value of warning Mechanikles about them. Scooter seems pretty clever, for a clockwork beetle. And also, a pretty good artist._

The sun was beginning to rise by the time Mechanikles led Saleen into one of his many indistinguishable workshops, and the sound of birdsong was beginning to filter in from outside. Still dripping, although admittedly clean, he crossed over to a shelf laden with scrolls, and traced a skinny hand over it lovingly.

"In these scrolls, these once lifeless rolls of paper and wood, are a list of all the achievements of I, Mechanikles!" He said, with a flourish. "All in perfect alphabetical order."

His fingers crawled, spider-like, over the inscrutable catalogue, his glassy eye scanning for something amongst the indistinguishable ranks. His mouth worked quietly, muttering notes for no one in particular to hear. Curiosity piqued, Saleen reached out for one of the scrolls.

"Don't touch that!" The inventor snapped, not looking up from his search. Saleen's hand froze, despite herself.

"What exactly are you looking for in this list of past glories?"

Mechanikles continued his mumbling and searching for just long enough for Saleen to wonder if he hadn't heard her question. The silence lingered as his spindly hands found their goal, and plucked a series of scrolls from their roosts. It reigned awkwardly as he made his way across the floor, set them down on the table, and spread one open. Only then did he reply, with the air of one for whom the external world was rapidly becoming a distraction.

"Plans! If I am to destroy the friends of the street-rat, then I will require a plan of fiendish magnitude! A plan that draws upon my numerous triumphs, and eradicates past mistakes! A plan that will close upon them with an elegance and inevitability the likes of which the world has never seen!"

His quill slashed across the paper, his eyepiece extending to scrutinise each letter laid out before him. Saleen loomed behind him, peering over his shoulder at the mysterious list.

"Check weather reports before invasion? Never tell enemy which lever will destroy invention? Always install seatbelts?" She read the entries on the list aloud and incredulously. "My, what jewels of insight."

The inventor drew back from his scrutiny, and drew himself up to his full height.

"And what, pray, do you contribute? What pearls of wisdom float in that soggy brain of yours, I wonder?"

Saleen sniffed.

"Aladdin has spurned my advances twice to date."

Mechanikles raised the one eyebrow that wasn't obscured by his monocle.

"Twice? You've faced Aladdin _twice?" _ He gave a soft little laugh between his teeth, one that petered out into a wheezy cough. "Why, Aladdin has only foiled my schemes, destroyed my precious inventions and left me for dead…oh, only a few dozen times."

"Ah, I see. You've fought him dozens of times. Of course. I just can't help but think that after so many attempts…most people would actually succeed."

The inventor gave her a partially-magnified glare.

"You don't know. You really don't know, do you? You come swanning into my home, staining the marble, making everything smell of fish, bringing that accursed cephalopod with you! You come here, with your magic, and your power, and not the faintest clue in your pretty, empty little head! You've faced Aladdin twice, and you think that places you on a par with me? Hah! You really don't know, do you? You haven't got the faintest idea of just what you're dealing with. The stupid stunts he pulls, the powerful friends he keeps, his weird luck, his ridiculous hero complex… He destroys everything!"

There was froth coming out of the corners of Mechanikles' mouth, and far too many teeth on display for Saleen's liking. She slid back until she was out of spittle-range, as the inventor continued his rant.

"You know what? I think he's actually insane. Yes, he must be. There's not other reason why anyone, least of all a street-rat like him would go around poking his nose in other peoples business. The man's mad! Totally obsessed! Every time I try my hand at anything, any time I actually manage to create something, he's always there, always waiting in the wings to destroy it!"

Saleen heaved a sigh.

"Now that we've established just who's insane around here, aren't we going to work on that plan?"

"The plan! Of course, the plan!" He grasped the scroll again, giving it his full scrutiny. "Yes… We'll need a machine, of course. Every time I build one, he appears. Disposal of the genie and the carpet are top priorities, as is the capture and incineration of those disgusting animals he carries around with him." The inventor shuddered for a moment, before beginning to scribble at the scroll with renewed intensity. His frenzied speech dropped into muttering.

Saleen stood watching him for a moment. It soon became apparent that in this state, the rest of the world was a trivial concern compared to the ideas flowing from his head and onto the paper. She left him engrossed, slipping through the door without him even acknowledging it. This room was small, sterile and white, and the rest of the strange, dry world beckoned.

The rest of the house, it seemed, had the same overall décor. Most of it was wrought in the same cold white marble, that same gleaming bronze. There were an awful lot of workshops, in which metal creatures glittered, some of them only half-formed. Everywhere, the huge and inscrutable cogs poked through, half-hidden by pieces of drapery. All of it was impeccably clean.

The sound of birdsong and the glimmer of the dawn led her to the door. That too was bronze, and without any apparent means for opening it. After a few moments of undignified fumbling, pushing, and trying to insert her fingers into the cracks around the frame, her frustration growing, Saleen eventually managed to open the door. Her method was a unique one, involving several gallons of water at quite a high pressure, but did have the advantage that once the door was opened, it stayed open. Picking her way over the twisted mess of bronze, Saleen stepped out into the morning sun.

The house, it seemed, rested on a small hill. Looking back, it seemed far too small to hold the labyrinthine arrangement of rooms she'd just emerged from. The sunlight was just hitting its marble flanks, and in the cool light, it managed to look pristine rather than sterile. The trees, tall dark cypresses, were filled with birdsong, and the long grass below with the buzz of tiny wings. A pinkish blush was rising on the horizon, the blazing sun below, and the cool blue of the heavens above. The air carried the faint smell of wet grass.

Saleen sat down on the steps, rubbing at her bare feet. For a moment, just for a moment, she laid back, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the warmth on her skin, the sweet-smelling air, and the twitter of birdsong.

"My door!"

Saleen was abruptly broken out of her trance. She sat up, glowering at the inventor who was currently standing in the wreckage, a look of shock and indignation on his face.

"It wasn't a very good door anyway. It didn't open properly."

"Didn't open properly!? Do you know how long it took me to build that opening mechanism? Do you have any idea how complicated that system was? Did you even try pulling on the horn?"

"The horn?"

"The bull's horn! Did you even look at that part? The bull's head, right in the middle? What do you think I put it there for, fun?"

Saleen shrugged.

"Consider it part of our deal. Payment for your life."

"Oh, how delightful. Tell me, is the rest of my property payment as well? Are there any valuables I should rescue before you burn the place down?"

"Please. Why would I do that?" She turned to Mechanikles. "I need you and you little workshop and your little plan." She frowned. "Besides, I'd never burn a place down. Not with my other talents…"

"Really? You should try it. Most effective, gets rid of germs in a flash. Very stress-relieving, too."

There was a moments silence, both of them staring out into the sunrise.

"I know." Said Mechanikles eventually.

"Know what?"

"This place is in a terrible state." He waved his hand at the swaying, sunlit grass. "All this filth and vermin. All these breeding grounds for germs and dirt and…Zeus forbid…moulds…" A shudder. "I've been meaning to sort it out, but time flies when you're trying to bring the world to its knees." He glanced up at the trees. "Scooter helps to keep bird levels down, but frankly the mess is worse than original problem."

"Delightful."

Mechanikles sighed, casting one last rueful look at the glade, and picked his way back over the shattered door.

"Scooter! I need you to deal with this door!" He cast a glance at Saleen. "You're welcome to keep sunbathing, but some of us have nefarious plots to hatch."

* * *

_Sorry for the delay on this one, folks. I've been a bit busy with Marine biology work (going to the beach…for science!), and had a touch of writers block. All sorted now, and should be back on schedule!_


End file.
